


Hello Sweetheart

by GnedTheGnome



Series: Not Following the Rules [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anger, Angst, Body Dysphoria, Canon Gay Character, Canon Trans Character, Crying, Depression, Despair, FTM, Gender Dysphoria, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Hatred, Swearing, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 05:25:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9307220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GnedTheGnome/pseuds/GnedTheGnome
Summary: After an incident in the tavern, Krem goes into a dysphoric tailspin.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings: This fic includes blatant transphobia, a goodly portion of self-hatred, some violence, and a whole lot of swearing.**
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> This work is a fill for a [prompt,](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/16500.html?thread=64179060#t64179060) which reads, in part: "I like the hard angst that leaves a person questioning who they are and if they're worthy of love." It takes place some time between chapters seven and eight in [Not Following the Rules.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8202415/chapters/18790441)

Dorian stood close behind as Krem shouldered his way up to the crowded bar and waved Cabot over. "Two pitchers of dark ale, and an apple brandy," he called over the general chatter. 

"Out of brandy," Cabot grunted. 

Krem turned back to Dorian with a grin. "No brandy. Looks like you're drinking ale with the rest of us peons, Altus."

Dorian feigned disappointment. "I suppose I'll have to make do."

From somewhere nearby they heard a low wolf-whistle. Dorian glanced around to see a tall, bearded soldier leaning drunkenly against the bar. He recognized the man as an itinerant self-described mercenary—unaffiliated with any company—who had shown up a couple weeks ago looking to join the Inquisition army. In that time he had garnered himself a reputation as a vulgar drunkard who put more energy into harassing the serving girls than into his arms practice. 

He was grinning salaciously at Krem. "Well, hello there Sweetheart. I bet you got a nice pair of tits under that armor."

Krem scowled. "Fuck off," he said, turning back toward Cabot without deigning to look at the man.

The guy apparently took that as an invitation. He pushed off the bar, stumbling backwards a few paces in his inebriation, and came around to get a better view of Krem. He made a show of ogling him before loudly prating on, "Oh come on, Sweetheart, don't be like that. It's not like we can't tell. Maybe, you like to pretend to be a boy, but underneath you're all woman."

Krem continued to lean against the bar, ignoring the insufferable lout, but Dorian could see the muscles in his jaw bulging. His own jaw tightened in sympathetic anger. He turned to face the man, arms crossed, glaring at him with his haughtiest expression. Little sparks of lightening flickered down his arms and across his fingertips in warning.

The mood in the room changed. There was a dip in the buzz of conversation as awareness grew of what was going on. People started slowly stepping away, making a space as they waited to see how this little exchange was going to play out. Out of the corner of his eye, Dorian saw someone slip out the tavern door and take off at a run. 

The guy continued obliviously, "Why don't you come upstairs with me, Sweetheart, and I'll show you what a real man looks like. I'll make you feel so good, you'll never want to play dress-up again."

"Now see here," Dorian said, taking a step forward.

But before he could get any further, Krem breezed past him and slammed his gauntlet-covered fist into the mercenary's face. There was a wet crunch and the man stumbled backwards, arms pinwheeling, before he tripped over his own feet and fell to the floor. He sat up, wide-eyed, blood pouring between his fingers as he clutched his shattered nose.

"What the fuck!" he cried in a muffled voice, and flinched when Krem took a step toward him.

Krem stood over the man, hands on his hips. He smiled tightly and said in a cold, calm voice, "Guess you just got your ass handed to you by a girl, then."

Dorian smirked. _Good man,_ he thought, impressed. He didn't usually approve of vulgar pursuits like bar-room brawling, but this guy deserved it, and he couldn't help but admire Krem's backbone. He clapped a comradely hand on Krem's shoulder in a show of solidarity, and opened his mouth to say as much. Krem spun around, eyes blazing, and violently brushed Dorian's hand away. "Don't you touch me!" he hissed. 

The look of pure hatred that Krem leveled at him shocked Dorian into silence. Their gazes locked for just a moment before Krem turned and strode angrily out of the tavern, leaving Dorian open-mouthed in confusion.

"What was that about?" he wondered aloud.

An enormous hand fell heavily on Dorian's shoulder and squeezed. He turned to find The Iron Bull standing behind him.

"I learned a long time ago not to try to fight his battles for him," he said with a shake of his head. "Give him a little while to calm down, then go talk to him."

Just then, there was a commotion at the door, as Cullen strode in, looking harried and annoyed, two soldiers close behind. "What's going on here?" he barked. He took one look at the man on the floor and shook his head, lips pinched together in a straight line. "You again. Didn't I warn you what would happen if you caused any more trouble?"

The soldier gestured vaguely in Dorian's general direction, where Krem had been standing. "But! She… He… bloody broke my nose!" 

Cullen followed the accusatory finger and locked eyes with Dorian. "Lord Pavus, did you witness the altercation?"

Dorian sighed. He was itching to dash off after Krem, but of course, he wouldn't be Dorian if things went his way, would he? "Yes, Commander, I did," he answered, allowing himself a degree of satisfaction when the two soldiers who had accompanied Cullen hauled the boor to his feet.

"Then would you be so kind as to accompany me back to my office to make a statement?"

Dorian smiled venomously at the man being taken into custody. "Of course, Commander. With pleasure."

* * *

Krem blinked back tears as he walked briskly up the steps and across the ramparts toward his quarters.

 _Every time. Every fucking time,_ he thought. Every time he started to feel good about himself. Every time he thought people really accepted him. Every _fucking_ time he thought he was consistently passing, something like this would happen, and knock his feet right out from under him again.

And Dorian's reaction had just made it worse. Defending him! Like he was some fucking… flowery maiden whose honor had been besmirched. Krem's heart clenched. He had honestly thought that Dorian was being sincere when he said he still saw Krem as a man. That's what really hurt: to realize that Dorian had only been humoring him this whole time. And Krem couldn't even really justify being mad at him. It would almost be easier if he could just dismiss Dorian as some pampered, Altus asshole, and move on. But he wasn't. He was a sweet guy, who pretended for Krem's sake, which was more than he had any right to expect. Any sane person would say that Krem should be grateful for that much.

But he wasn't grateful. He was angry. Angry that Dorian had lied to him. Angry that there were assholes out there who had to butt in, and couldn't just leave him be. And, more than anything, he was angry at the Maker for making him this fucked up mess of a human being in the first place.

His eyes prickled and his throat burned. _Kaffas._ He was definitely going to cry. _Just fucking great. One more thing to prove everyone right._ He managed to hold it together until he hit the door to his quarters, slamming it shut behind him.

He recognized the dark spiral he was sliding into. He had been here before, and knew, intellectually, that things were not as bleak as they seemed when he was in its vortex. But knowing didn't change anything. It was an inescapable whirlpool, dragging him to the bottom.

"Why? Why can't I ever get a break?" he sobbed, ripping open the straps on his right gauntlet and hurtling it against the wall. It left a smear of the obnoxious soldier's blood on the stone. " _Kaffas_ ," he hissed. Now he was going to have to clean that up, as well. Later. He yanked and shrugged his way out of the rest of his armor, anger making him impatient and clumsy with every strap and buckle. He continued to rant at the top of his lungs, every curse punctuated by the clang of another piece of armor bouncing off stone. "Why did I have to be born this way? Why do I have to be so fucked up?" he cried, flinging the other gauntlet at the wall. "Why do _people_ have to be so fucked up. Why do they always have to butt their _fucking_ noses in my _fucking_ business?" Each of his greaves followed. "Why can't they just fucking leave me alone?" He dragged his pauldrons and hauberk off, dumped them unceremoniously on the floor, and kicked them for good measure, taking satisfaction in the way one pauldron skittered across the floor and ricocheted back off the wall. He stood there, face flushed, panting from the exertion. In the back of his mind he heard Bull chastising him for the way he was treating his equipment. _That's why you can never have anything nice,"_ he thought sardonically. Or anyone nice. Like Dorian.

He dropped to his knees next to the bed, anger suddenly dissipating into despair. "I thought he saw me. I thought he saw the real me," he sobbed into the covers. "But he was just pretending. He was just being fucking _nice._ " He sniffled loudly. "Bastard." As the anger drained from his body, so did his energy. He dragged himself up onto the bed and hugged a pillow, disgusted at the way it made his breasts squish inside the binder. The damned thing was suffocating him, but he couldn't bring himself to remove it. He couldn't face those monstrosities on his chest right now. 

He wondered if Dorian would be as disgusted by them as he was. Probably. Maybe even more so. Krem could at least appreciate a nice pair on a woman, just not on himself. Dorian had no use for tits at all. At least with Bull, Krem had been able to relax enough not to think about them too much. Bull wasn't human, and didn't think about these things the same way humans did. _Hell, Bull's tits are bigger than mine, anyway._ He didn't think he'd ever have that luxury with Dorian. He would forever be worried about destroying the illusion for him. But then, who was he kidding? It's not like he was ever going to have anything real with Dorian anyway. Krem was most likely just a nice piece of ass to Dorian—a bit of rough trade to temporarily amuse the pretty Altus while he was in exile. More tears tracked their way down Krem's cheek, leaving an uncomfortable damp spot on the pillow.

Alright, maybe he was being unfair. Maybe Dorian wasn't that mercenary about his affairs. He had always made the effort to be sweet and kind to Krem. He was probably just very lonely, and Krem offered him the comfort of familiarity in a hostile foreign land. Krem was a desperation fuck, at best. And that's the way it would always be. He was a curiosity. A freak. Who in their right mind would ever seriously consider spending their life with a freak? Hot tears started to flow again, in earnest.

* * *

Krem had no idea how long he had been lying there, when he heard a hesitant knock on the door. He had cried himself out at some point, and may have even dozed off for a while. He sat up and rubbed his face. His eyes still felt swollen, his nose full, and he would lay even money that he probably looked like crap. He considered ignoring whoever was out there.

The second knock was still polite, but more insistent. Krem sighed. It was probably Bull, checking up on him, and he wouldn't go away until he was satisfied that Krem was alright. And he was alright. Or, at least, a lot better. The worst of the darkness had lifted, leaving him feeling raw and drained, but no longer quite so hopeless.

"I'm fine, Bull, really," he said, swinging the door open in the middle of the third knock.

Only, it wasn't Bull. It was Dorian. Krem's heart made an unexpected little leap of happiness, before squeezing painfully tight. Part of him wanted to drag Dorian into the room and immediately jump his bones—which was pretty much his usual reaction when the mage showed up at his door. Another part of him knew that this couldn't continue. He couldn't be in a relationship—or whatever this thing between them was—with someone who didn't see him as him. 

Several emotions quickly cycled across Dorian's face as he took in Krem's state—surprise, dismay, concern—before he schooled it into polite inquiry. "Good evening, Lieutenant," he said, as if he were issuing a formal invitation to dinner. "I was hoping to… that is… May I come in?"

Krem blinked at him stupidly for a second and self-consciously swiped at his eyes, before taking a step back. "Yes, yes. Of course. Come in," he said, falling into the same, polite, safe tones.

It had gotten dark, and a chill had settled into the room. Mumbling apologies, Krem lit a candle from a lantern in the hall. Dorian gestured enquiringly at the fireplace, then brought it to a cheery blaze once he got the nod. Krem had to admit, that little trick was the one piece of magic that he well and truly envied, although it still made him slightly nervous.

The mage stood, staring quietly into the fire, while Krem lit some more candles. Eventually they both turned and started to speak at the same time.

"I think there's been… " … "We need to talk…" They both laughed nervously.

"I'm sorry. Go ahead," Krem offered gallantly.

"No, no. You first, I insist."

Krem's eyes narrowed as a bright burst of anger flared up in him again. "What? Ladies first?" he growled.

Dorian looked taken aback. "Krem. I… I'm not sure where this is coming from. I thought that we had established…"

"We _established_ that you are a very convincing liar," Krem interrupted fiercely.

"I beg your pardon?" Dorian gasped, looking both confused and affronted.

"You heard me." Krem crossed his arms and stood his ground. "You tell me all these pretty lies about how you still see me as a man, all the things you know I want to hear. You make me believe you. You make me _trust_ you… " His throat tightened again, and he looked away, taking a couple deep breaths to steady himself, before turning back toward Dorian. "But then, one asshole in a bar steps out of line, and there you are sashaying up to defend my honor, ready to protect the little lady." He stepped abruptly into Dorian's space, almost nose to nose with him. "I _don't_. Fucking. Need. Your protection." Krem surprised even himself with the intensity of the feelings behind his words. A part of him knew he was overreacting, and wondered why. 

Dorian looked flabbergasted. "Well, of course I tried to defend your honor," he sputtered. "You're my friend. I care about you. And the man was being an insufferable ass." He crossed his own arms defensively across his chest. "I would have done the same for Cullen, or Varric, or the Inquisitor, or… well, I suppose that pretty well covers my list of friends, around here. But my point is, I did _not_ speak up for you because I see you as a woman, but because it was the right thing to do." He took a deep breath, and turned away. When he turned back, he had a pained expression on his face. "I suppose I can see how you might have misinterpreted my actions, however. If I offended you, I apologize." He gave Krem a stiff, formal bow.

Krem scowled at him, unable to tell if Dorian was telling the truth, or more convincing lies. He shook his head and turned away. His heart was hammering too fast in his chest. He wanted so very badly to believe this was all a mix-up, that everything could still go back to the way it was. He realized that he had grown to care for the infuriating Altus, and it had left his heart frighteningly open and vulnerable. Experience told him that a heart left unprotected like that, sooner or later ended up broken. 

He stared down at his hands, immediately focusing on how cracked and filthy his nails were. "I just… How do I know you're not just being nice? How can I tell for certain that you're not just humoring me?"

Dorian turned himself around in a tight circle and threw his hands in the air. " _Vishante kaffas_ ," he muttered, in frustration. "If I saw you as a woman, quite frankly, I wouldn't be fucking you." The vulgarity of the statement shocked Krem out of his self-pity, as it was undoubtedly intended to. Dorian let the meaning sink in before he continued in a more measured voice, "Do you have any idea how many women my parents paraded before me? Do you know how much easier my life would have been had I simply agreed to play pretend and settle down to marry one of them? If I wasn't willing to play pretend for political power, my family's regard, and a bloody fortune in inheritance, why would I play pretend with you?"

Krem snapped his mouth shut. He was silent for several seconds as he absorbed what Dorian had just said. "I never thought of it like that," he said quietly. He considered the rest of Dorian's words, one sentence in particular just now sinking in. "You care about me?"

Dorian glanced down at his hands. "Well, yes. Of course I do. I count my friends few in number, but those I have made here are among the dearest to me." He reached out a tentative hand to touch Krem's arm. "The last thing I ever wanted to do was to hurt you. You've… come to matter to me."

Krem shuffled uncomfortably, then took a small step toward Dorian. Dorian responded immediately by pulling him into a gentle hug. Krem leaned his head on his shoulder, and Dorian cupped the back of his head with his hand, and laid a kiss on his ear. Krem sighed deeply. He generally didn't tolerate other people trying to comfort him, but this felt nice. It felt right. Like finally coming home.

"I'm sorry I over-reacted," he mumbled into Dorian's leathers.

"I'm sorry I acted without thinking," Dorian responded.

"How can I make it up to you?" Krem asked, finally wrapping his arms around the mage and hugging him back.

Dorian's voice grew rich and dark, "Well, now. Let's see… Why don't you show me what a real man looks like, and bend me over the end of that bed?" He drew back and gave Krem a mischievous smile.

Krem smiled in return. "Gladly."


End file.
